Definition
by SilverPoint
Summary: Vignette. Gaara had never been a hero before, but he had best learn if he was to beat them. Set between the end of the Chuunin Exam and Gaara's reappearance. Constructive Criticism Appreciated.


"Get out of my way," Gaara ordered the young man in front of him. The man drew a sword, preparing for battle. Gaara snorted, then killed him. Intended target or not, he would kill anyone who tried to defend his target. He walked past the blood stains, into the room.

Seven people sat around a single table, surrounded by dozens of bodyguards. Gaara waited a few moments for Temari and Kankuro to come behind him, then sent a wave of sand around the main table, trying to crush the targets with as little hassle as possible. He needed time to think, and a mission was not the time for idle contemplation.

It was odd, though, knowing that he was justified in killing these people. He would not have declined the mission if the reason hadn't been good enough, but it had. Seven lives taken would save dozens more, and Gaara would be a part of it. He knew that must have helped people before, but never consciously. He had killed without justification. Only after the Chuunin Exam had he thought to ask the reasons behind the missions. Killing these people would better society, and they had done much to deserve it. This mission would make him a hero.

But they hadn't died yet. A ninja had emerged from somewhere in the crowd, knocking the sand aside. She tackled Gaara, sending both of them through the wall into the adjacent room.

Gaara realized his current surroundings wouldn't yield much in the way of extra sand, and allowed his gourd to empty its contents. "You know," he told his opponent conversationally, "You're going to die here." Life changes with little things. Civil conversations took considerably less effort than anything else could think of to become stronger.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the other ninja told him. No sooner had she finished speaking than a wave of sand pinned her against the wall opposite the hole.

Gaara began to form the seal to back his words up, but hesitated. Did he want to be a hero? Heroes would leave their opponents be after victory. But he always killed those who opposed him. It was a part of who he was... who he had been. Did he want to change? None of the rules seemed to make sense any more. He felt the rage boil within, but pushed it away for once. He turned back to the enemy in front of him. None of the rules applied anymore.

"Let your heart guide you when rules are no longer fair... the meeting of all truths... to believe in the good in all..." Temari had quoted that ridiculous nonsense to him years ago, back when he had been gullible to look for meaning within it. He shook his head. His heart probably couldn't even make itself heard over the rage and sorrow, assuming it had lived this long.

"An enemy is an enemy. A mission is a mission. A shinobi is a tool." More useless nonsense from his childhood, this time from his father's failed attempts at controlling him.

He let the sand slip off her torso, then crushed her legs. She wouldn't interfere anymore. But he still felt ill at ease. To hear the reassurance of screams of fear, he closed the sand slowly around her again, letting it form a coffin. This time he broke her arms, felt the sand around them tighten as an extension of his body, rejoiced in the sound of snapping bones, of shrieks of agony. When the symphony had ended he turned and strode from the room, ignoring the body on the ground. If she made it out, she lived. If not, it would not be because he hadn't given her a fair chance.

He walked back into the room where Temari and Kankuro should have finished up by this point. Instead, he saw Kankuro on the ground, unconscious, and Temari bleeding from half a dozen wounds. His eyes widened, then turned to the rest of room. Every last bodyguard had been a ninja, from the look of things. Most of them were dead. His siblings had shown last mercy than he had. Gaara got a strange feeling at that, good, but derisive at the same time.

The remaining opponents held various weapons, and, ignorant of Gaara, threw them straight at Temari.

_No. _The sand rushed to protect Temari, deflecting every last shot.

Gaara blinked in confusion. That had been a conscious decision. Protection had to won, not given. She was his sister, though. How could he not help her? Losing her would be like his last line to the real world. He had finally come to realize that she was family, just like Mom. And Mom had helped him protect her, so she must feel the same way.

He diverted his attention to the enemy for a moment. They had tried to hurt him... them, rather. They would not leave alive. A wall of sand slammed into them, crushing every last living guard, as well as those they protected. He had just won a hero's victory, fighting for others, saving others. But he never had to tell anyone else that. Let them think he didn't understand how they fought, that he couldn't fight that way. But once was enough for now. His sister turned back to pick up Kankuro.

She didn't need to know that she was family. He still liked being in control, threatening her. His threats wouldn't carry weight within his own head- although, to be honest with himself, he would have had a hard time killing her in the first place.

So he had fought as a hero. It meant nothing, other than that he knew how. He was no hero, he was no tool. He wasn't any of their stupid definitions. He was Gaara. What that meant remained to be seen.


End file.
